


In Vino Veritas

by sb_essebi



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bones is trying his best in this one but he isn’t perfect, Drunken Confessions, First Time, Leonard "Bones" McCoy is a Good Friend, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nyota Uhura is a Good Friend, Smut, The biology of Vulcans, Vulcan Biology, Vulcan Mind Melds, by which I mean Jim is very drunk Spock is sober and Jim gets very handsy, he just touches spock... A LOT, i guess, no actual sex happens while Jim is drunk btw, which I think is canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26226001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sb_essebi/pseuds/sb_essebi
Summary: The Enterprise is celebrating the end of its fourth year in space. At the party, Jim is nursing a bottle of Saurian brandy, afraid he’ll never get to confess his feelings to Spock without scaring him away.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 16
Kudos: 279
Collections: Star Trek Bingo Summer 2020





	In Vino Veritas

It was nearing midnight. The party had been going on for over three hours, which Jim had spent the better part of dutifully socializing with his crew. Patting backs, praising efforts, catching up on their personal lives, the works. Normally, he enjoyed this, but today it had felt more like a chore than anything else.

In just a few minutes, they would be entering the fifth and last year of their mission. It should have been a time for celebration, for pride for everything they had accomplished in these four long years, but nothing could have been further from Jim’s mind. To him, four years had flown by far too quickly. Many were looking forward to their return to Earth. Jim wasn’t, but that was hardly news and it wasn’t what had him feeling so… maudlin.

Feeling he had exchanged enough pleasantries and absolved his duty to look reasonably cheerful, Jim had found himself a seat at an empty table by one of the shuttles. From there, he had a clear view of the improvised stage they’d set up in the shuttle bay for the party, where Spock had been strong-armed into accompanying Uhura’s singing with his Vulcan lyre for the past two hours, to the delight of the crew at large.

Jim took a generous swig from his third glass of Saurian brandy of the evening. It was an old routine this one, him and the bottle or, more often, Bones’ sleeping pills. One Jim had gradually abandoned as Spock filled the void Jim’s responsibilities as a captain had slowly carved into him. It turned out that all it took to fall back into the old habits was a longing heart.

Spock’s fingertips moved almost hypnotically over the chords of his instrument, tracing intricate patterns that Jim was too distracted to follow. The gentleness and dexterity of those well-manicured, long-fingered hands were all he could think of. He forced himself to look at Spock’s face instead.

Spock was gorgeous like this, in his element, doing what he enjoyed and excelled at, surrounded by people he was comfortable with.

Most people couldn’t tell when Spock was at ease, smiling, _happy_ , but Jim was well-versed in the brightness of Spock’s eyes, the upward quirk of his mouth, the colour high on his cheeks that peeked from the edges of his makeup. Well-versed in the playfulness of his gaze and the relaxed lines of his neck and shoulders as Uhura leaned closer to him and whispered something in his ear at the end of a song, making him shift his hold on the lyre and drastically change the mood of the music, his head nodding along with the fast rhythm he began playing.

Jim’s hand that wasn’t nursing the brandy closed into a tight fist, his short nails digging into his palm.

Uhura's friendship was very dear to Spock. Jim knew this. It was vile to be jealous of one’s friends, yet there Jim was, wishing _he_ were the one making Spock smile, aching to kiss Spock’s breath away and stake his claim on him.

This -jealousy- was the ugliest part of him. So ugly he struggled and often refused to acknowledge it. Jim didn’t even know where it came from. His parents had certainly raised him to be better than this. The alcohol made it worse, he knew. He never felt this way towards Uhura, normally.

Jim drained his glass and poured himself another. To his surprise, Bones was suddenly next to him, pulling up a chair and sitting astride it with the backrest between his legs.

“You should talk to him.”

Jim took a swig.

“I can’t.”

“Why the hell not? Goddamnit, Jim, you think he isn’t as crazy about you as you are? That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Jim’s cheeks burned as he shifted in his seat, hiding his face from Bones. To this day, Jim was still unsure sometimes whether Spock reciprocated him, and to what extent, but most importantly he felt certain that, if confronted with the enormity of Jim’s feelings for him, Spock would be scared.

“It’s not that. It’s… he’s Vulcan, Bones. I need to take it slow. Be gentle. Wait for him to come to me.”

Jim didn’t pretend to completely understand the complexity of Spock’s mind, the depth of the struggle between his obvious need and want to experience and express emotions and his equally obvious necessity and desire to control them and adhere to the path of logic, but four years together had taught Jim that Spock did not deal well with sudden, forceful and passionate displays of emotion… which any sort of confession from Jim would be.

“He’ll make you wait forever and then some.”

“I can live with that,” Jim said, sounding much bolder than he felt, smiling as he brought his glass to his lips. Bones snatched it from him.

“This how you’re planning to do it?”

Jim brusquely grabbed the glass back and downed it, then moved the bottle out of Bones’ reach.

“I’m the Captain of this ship 365 days a year. Every day, I have to be… strong. Fearless. Confident. I cannot show a weakness, cannot be… vulnerable. I can’t afford to smile a little less widely, ever. Not in front of the crew. I cannot even mourn the loss of my men as I want to, because I cannot risk the rest of the crew losing hope… And the only man I want to show my heart to, I cannot have.” Jim sighed heavily. “I think I’m entitled to drown my sorrows for just _one_ night, McCoy.”

If he was being too harsh when Bones was just trying to help, well, Jim would have time to regret it and apologise in the morning.

There was a long pause. Bones let out a sigh that was almost a groan.

“ _Damn it, Jim_ ,” he muttered under his breath. “Alright,” he said louder. “Alright. Just… don’t make me regret this, or I’ll take you off duty for a month!”

Jim just hummed non-committedly in response.

* * *

“Would you mind if we called it a night, Mister Spock?” Uhura asked. “I feel like I’ll lose my voice if I sing one more note.”

Spock ceased trying to locate Jim in favour of facing Uhura, attempting to hide the upset and concern he felt at the fact Jim had not shown up to listen to his performance, as he usually enjoyed doing. He smiled slightly.

“The crew would not easily forgive me such a loss.” The few remaining crewmembers around them laughed. Spock bowed his head respectfully in Uhura’s direction. “It has been a pleasure to accompany you, as always.”

She smiled.

“The pleasure was mine.” She gestured at the lyre he was still holding. “Would you like me to take this back to your quarters while you look for the Captain?”

Although their friendship was not one where he had yet understood how to approach such private topics, there was great affinity and familiarity between them, and Uhura understood much of what he could not say. Trying to reign in his emotions, he handed her the instrument.

“I thank you.”

“I haven’t seen him in a while,” she said, anticipating his question. “I’m sure there’s a reason why he wasn’t watching you play. You should try asking Doctor McCoy.”

He nodded.

“It was my intention to do so.”

She smiled gently at him. Her obvious understanding of his feelings made him slightly uncomfortable, and ashamed his emotions were so plain to see.

“Goodnight, Spock.”

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

He turned away from her, but before he could locate McCoy, the doctor seemed to almost materialize right in front of Spock.

“Come with me,” McCoy said.

Obeying, Spock followed him towards the opposite end of the shuttle bay.

“Is something the matter, Doctor?”

McCoy didn’t answer, only vaguely gestured to mean Spock should follow without questioning. Pursing his lips, Spock did so until they reached one of the shuttles.

Partially hidden from view was one of the tables they had set up in the bay for the celebration. Sitting at it, his head resting upon his crossed arms, was Jim, who had clearly fallen asleep. Spock felt a warm wave of affection tug at his heart. He tried to suppress his ensuing smile.

Jim looked beautiful in his sleep, the lines the weight of command carved on his face smoothed and his long lashes splayed against his reddened cheeks, a stray curl of hair hanging loosely in the middle of his forehead. Spock shivered.

McCoy waved tiredly in Jim’s direction.

“Get him back to his quarters, will ya? Here’s something for the hangover. I’ve a couple others like him to take care of already.”

As he reached for the medication McCoy handed him, Spock took far too long to realize what the doctor’s words implied. Shame at his distraction and anger at himself for failing his duty to care for his Captain flooded him, then were quickly replaced by anger towards McCoy.

“He lost consciousness due to the alcohol? And you were aware of this?”

“ _Of course he didn’t_ , what kinda doctor do you take me for? I spiked his drink so he wouldn’t go overboard.”

Spock struggled to get his emotions under control.

“Doctor McCoy, until now I was under the impression that you would notify me should the Captain’s emotional wellbeing decline to such a degree that-“

“Yeah, well, he’s been going through a lot, alright? It’s not an ongoing problem, he just wanted a night off-“

“Nevertheless-“

“Now, listen here you pointy-eared bastard,” McCoy snapped, jabbing a finger against Spock’s chest, “it’s far too late at night for a lecture from you, _especially since this is all your damn fault to begin with_ , will you get him to bed for me without a fuss or not? I want as few people as possible to see him like this.”

Spock understood. The crew knowing that the Captain had overindulged in drink would negatively affect Jim’s image, which Jim could not afford if he wanted to run a tight ship, if he wanted the crew to trust him and rely on him.

Spock tried to take in the rest of the doctor’s words, frantically make sense of them, but failed. Pushing his anxieties to the side for the moment, he nodded curtly.

“I will.”

McCoy sighed.

“Look, Spock, being a captain is a lot, you know that-“

“I’m well aware. I simply wish he would allow me to shoulder part of that burden more often. If you’ll excuse me, Doctor.”

Without another word, he turned his back to McCoy and bent to gently shake Jim’s shoulder, ignoring McCoy’s loud sigh as the Doctor left.

“Jim,” he called softly. “Jim, it is Spock.”

Jim barely hummed in his sleep. Feeling affection squeeze his heart again, Spock gathered Jim carefully in his arms, allowing his head to rest on Spock’s shoulder. His slightly cool breath smelled strongly of Saurian brandy, but the feeling of it against Spock’s skin still made him shiver. His negligible human weight was a heady privilege to bear. Spock headed straight for the turbolift with a fast but even pace, trying his best not wake Jim.

Spock’s mind wandered again to McCoy’s words despite his attempts to compartmentalize. He did not understand. Certainly, he had failed to notice that Jim’s emotional state was sub-optimal, and he deeply regretted this, yet he failed to see how he could be the sole cause of Jim’s distress. Had the doctor simply been making use of hyperbole? Had Spock neglected his duties, and not realized this? Surely, Jim would have made him aware if his performance as a first officer had been lacking. Their dialogue in matters of ship’s business was constant and open.

Terror crawled up his spine. There was always the possibility… that Jim may have become aware of Spock’s feelings for him, of the true depth of the bond between them… and that they had disgusted him. That he had felt rightfully betrayed that Spock had omitted how tight and strong their bond was, and the true nature of it. A _t’hy’la_ bond. Friend, brother, _lover_.

Not for the first time, Spock fought the fear of rejection, the pain at the knowledge Jim surely could never love him as Spock loved him, the overwhelming urge to run away, the temptation to simply purge all his feelings so that perhaps the suffering would stop.

Spock swallowed hard. He pushed all those thoughts aside. His duty to his Captain came first.

Spock carried Jim easily down Deck 5 to Jim’s quarters. Holding Jim with one arm with limited effort, he unlocked the doors and entered.

At the chime of the door, Jim stirred in his sleep and wrapped his arms tight around Spock’s neck, burrowing his face closer against Spock as though seeking his heat.

Spock’s heart skipped several beats. He struggled to remember how to breathe as he left Jim’s medication for the morning on the nightstand and tried to deposit Jim on his bed as delicately as possible.

“Sssssspahk?” Jim slurred, arms tightening around Spock’s neck.

“Yes, Jim,” he said softly. “You are in your quarters. I am helping you into bed.”

Jim did not recognise this as an invitation to let go of Spock’s neck.

“’m drunk.”

“Indeed.” Spock waited, leaning further downwards toward the bed. “Jim. You may let go of me now.”

“Hmmm. You smell good.” Jim inhaled deeply against Spock’s throat and nuzzled it, mouthing gently, _sensually_ –surely Spock was imagining this- against Spock’s pulse point. Spock’s blood rushed to his groin and heated so fast he felt lightheaded for a long moment. He recoiled, letting go of Jim, but Jim did not do the same, hanging off Spock’s neck. Falling back on the bed, Jim cracked one eye open slightly.

“Hmmm. Y’look s’pretty. So pretty.”

Spock swallowed, hard, his cheeks on fire.

“Captain, let go of me.” Spock heard shameful, shameful panic in his own voice.

Jim blinked lazily up at him, eyes misty. Spock could not look away even though he wanted to… _needed_ to. Should look away. Must.

With a small hum, Jim let go of Spock’s neck, clumsily pulled off his uniform shirt and firmly fisted Spock’s.

“ _Come to bed, Mister_.”

Spock was unsure what distracted him, if the unexpected sight of Jim’s round, full pectorals or the huskiness of his voice, but he was not ready when Jim yanked him down by his uniform. His knees were weak and he was off-balance from leaning over the bed, so he fell far too easily –eagerly?- in Jim’s arms. Nose to nose, mouth inches away from Jim’s, an unmistakable erection pressed against his front, right against his genital slit. He distinctly felt his ridges brush against his labia as his penis began to harden and emerge from his slit. Gasping, he tried to sit up. Multicoloured spots were dancing before of his eyes as he tried to make sense of the assault of sensations. Paradoxically, the smell of the brandy sobered him slightly.

“Jim. We cannot.”

Jim whined, rutting against Spock. Spock’s breath was punched out of his chest. He had not thought it possible to become erect so fast, yet within seconds the front of his uniform trousers was painfully tight against him.

“Want you. Y’feel s’good.”

To his great shame, Spock moaned unrestrainedly.

Jim’s hands roamed Spock’s upper body. Spock had to rise, leave immediately, but it was impossible under the passion of those tempting caresses. Spock’s legs might as well not have existed: he could not feel them but for the heat of his blood in them.

With unexpected speed for one so inebriated, Jim sat up, squirming up the bed, and began to wriggle out of his boots, then his socks, then his pants. Spock could not draw breath, could only panic.

“Jim, _what are you doing_?”

“Taking these off. I’m so hard for you, it hurts.” Spock whimpered. “Why’re you wearin’ pants? I love your legs. So long. Longest legs I’ve ever seen on a man. An’ ass. Best ass in the ‘Fleet. Take off your pants.”

Jim’s hand reached enthusiastically for the fastening of Spock’s pants. For one glorious moment, his palm rubbed beautifully against Spock’s erection and Spock came so close to orgasming right then and there that his eyes nearly rolled back into his skull. As the chill of shame rained down his back, he found the presence of mind to grab Jim’s wrists and _breathe_.

“Cease. I cannot. You do not want this. You are inebriated. _I cannot._ ”

Spock had… _suspected_ that Jim desired him sexually, although he had never dared to be confident in that belief lest it was all nothing but Spock’s own wishful thinking, but he had convinced himself this was irrelevant regardless, as Spock wanted nothing less than an exclusive, permanent marriage bond with Jim.

“’m fine. Need you.”

If Spock had ever allowed himself to imagine hearing such words from his Captain for more than a few seconds before brutally suppressing the thought, it had not prepared him for the real thing. His throat was desert-dry.

“Please, Captain. You do not want this. You do not want this.”

“’course I do!” Jim’s brows knitted together tightly in confusion. “You… don’ wan’ _me_?”

Spock could not breathe. Could not reply. Not when Jim’s wrists were trapped in his grip and he was expending every last shred of his energy to shield his thoughts, to resist the pull to give in and touch his mind to Jim’s. He would rather die than violate Jim’s consent, but every part of Jim’s body and mind was the sweetest yet most forceful temptation.

Spock forced himself to inhale, get oxygen to his brain, a sharp hissing thing of a breath, and struggled to think of how he could possibly leave Jim’s touch.

“But…” Jim continued, “ _I love you_.”

Spock’s eyes snapped open. Jim’s were bright and full of tears. Something inside Spock cracked irreversibly.

“Jim.”

“Love you. Love you so much. I’m so in love with you, it hurts. Righ’ ‘ere.” Jim tried to move his fist, seemingly forgetting that Spock still held his wrists, then frowned. “My heart, my throat, my gut. Hurts everywhere. Want you so much.” Spock’s arms trembled, and he had to let himself lie on top of Jim, letting go of him. Jim shifted hurriedly so they could lie side by side, facing each other, and took Spock’s hands in his. Spock shuddered. His brain seemed to be going simultaneously too slow and too fast to process the words Spock had longed to hear for years now. “Love you so, so, so much, Spock.”

“Do not speak.” His voice cracked. “You do not mean this-“

Jim kissed Spock’s hands, making him gasp, then simply buried his face against Spock’s neck and grabbed Spock’s shirt tightly with both fists. Spock felt Jim’s tears on his own skin.

“Love you. Please don’ leav’me. You can’t. Don’t leave me, Spock.” Spock could not find a way to reply, shaken to his core by Jim’s declarations. “’m so ‘lone. S’lone. Don’t wanna be alone ‘nymore. I have you. I want you.”

Unable to speak, Spock gathered Jim close and simply held him as Jim sobbed quietly.

“Was so ‘lone ‘fore I met you. Love the Ent’prise. Love her so much. But… she’s… she takes so much an’… an’ gives nothin’ back. Doesn’t love me back, y’know. Won’t love me. Like you do. Doesn’t smile like you do. Love your smile. She can’t touch me… can’t… love me. She’s not there fo’ me, like you are. Was so lonely before you. Could never go back. I’d... I think I’d die, Spock. I’d die if you left me.”

Spock swallowed, a gripping cold settling around his chest.

“Love you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Love you s’much, Spock. Hmm. Spahck. Hmmm. S’much.”

Jim never let go of Spock’s uniform, nor loosened his grip, not even when, after only a few minutes, he fell asleep suddenly and began to snore softly.

As he heard Jim fall asleep, Spock slowly began to think again beyond panic and arousal.

He tried to regain control of his breath. He had not been aware he had been the cause of Jim’s improved mental health over the course of the first year of their mission. Gone were the thoughts of fleeing to Gol, of purging his emotions. Jim’s fear of being alone, the visceral way he seemed to long for Spock’s company, so similar to Spock’s own feelings, forbade every thought of ever leaving the Enterprise. Thinking that, had he left, he would have caused Jim such pain chilled him to the bone. Though the idea of indulging in his human emotions and losing sight of his logic terrified him, harming Jim in any way scared him more.

Despite wanting to reassure Jim in the morning that his feelings were wholly reciprocated, Spock was unsure what to do. Jim would likely desire privacy, and time to recover from the effects of his overindulgence, but currently Spock was pinned in Jim’s warm embrace, made inescapable by the strong and possessive arms around Spock, the soft lips at his throat and the bare flesh heavy against Spock’s pants.

Jim’s naked thigh was pressed against Spock’s crotch and it felt like a roaring fire on his skin. He could hardly think of anything that wasn’t a part of Jim’s bare body touching his, much less meditate away his arousal. Jim’s surface thoughts were loud, though too blurred to discern, and Spock was far too fatigued to block them.

Several hours went by simply considering how to leave Jim’s bed without waking him but getting inexorably distracted by Jim’s small movements in his sleep, which seemed engineered to drive Spock mad, or which Spock’s mind was merely fashioning into purposeful, enticing caresses. Finally, Spock became concerned enough that he would have to turn to McCoy for a remedy for priapism that he decided such an event would be far more embarrassing than Jim waking with Spock in his arms and remembering his declarations from the previous night. As soon as Spock made up his mind to rise, though, Jim moved.

Jim went rigid at Spock’s side. Illogical as it sounded, Spock could almost _feel_ Jim’s eyes snap open. Then, Jim bolted out of bed, grabbed the medication on the nightstand and sprinted for their shared bathroom.

Suddenly bereft of Jim’s touch, a feeling far more heartbreaking that it ought to be, Spock took far too long to realize that the following moan coming from the facilities was from Jim’s relief at finally emptying his bladder. The sounds coming from the bathroom seemed so deeply intimate to Spock, although they had shared the space for four years, that he felt his cheeks heat up. Now that he knew that Jim reciprocated him, everything took on a new meaning.

The door slid open a few moments later, finding Spock awkwardly sitting on Jim’s bed, anticipation and embarrassment both clawing at him.

Jim had put on his pants and splashed water on his face. If anything, the stray droplets in his hair and running down his muscular chest only made him more alluring. Spock swallowed. Jim’s was red-faced, his pupils blown. Jim’s eyes darted to between Spock’s legs, then back up. Spock’s eyes could only do the same to Jim, only he struggled to look back up after. His blood was heated, had been for hours, and his logic was far more impaired than he would have liked to admit. All because Jim claimed to love him. A simple feeling could turn his world on its axis.

Jim clasped his own hands, wringing them.

“I… apologise for my behaviour last night. It was unforgivable.”

“Yes,” Spock said stupidly.

“You-“

“I forgive it.”

“Ah.” A pause. “Spock, I-“

“Jim-“

“You first.”

“Was I truly the cause of your state last night?”

Jim winced.

“Bones shouldn’t have said that.” He worried his hands some more. “I love you. Thinking I couldn’t have you-“

Spock would unpack the magnitude of Jim imbibing excessive quantities of alcohol to soothe the ache of wanting Spock at a later date.

“I love you as well,” Spock blurted out as he rose from the bed.

Jim grinned. It put the sun to shame.

“That’s… that’s good.” Jim blushed harder, took a step towards Spock, almost reached out to him. “I don’t want to push you. I don’t want to go too fast-“

Spock closed the distance between them. Any further delay was painful to fathom.

“Please, Jim.” Spock gently grabbed Jim’s upper arms. “I will not leave you.”

Spock could hear the small, sharp intake of breath Jim took in anticipation. Tentatively, softly, Jim cupped Spock’s face and pressed their lips together. Spock shivered. His mental shields were tattered. Jim’s relief and happiness bled through. Jim’s lips felt as perfect as they looked, as did his touch on Spock’s face.

It was a long, delightful kiss but, before Spock could realize it had ended, another, much hungrier kiss had already begun. The sharp smell of stale brandy was irrelevant when coupled with the passion Jim applied to the kiss, the eagerness of his tongue in Spock’s mouth, the heat of his desire burning along their bond. Spock was weak-kneed and letting himself be backed against the bed and onto it in a matter of perhaps two minutes.

“ _I want you_.”

The raw need in Jim’s voice was enough to make Spock moan.

“You have me,” he murmured as he pulled Jim against him and pressed Jim’s face to his neck on pure instinct, simply longing for those lips after being accidentally teased by them for hours.

Jim kissed him fervently, drawing a string of small moans from him, testing out every spot on his neck he could reach, adding teeth and tongue to the arsenal disbanding Spock’s sanity. Jim’s hands roamed his chest frantically with a single-mindedness Spock had not thought possible. His shirt might have ripped in the process of taking it off, he was unsure as Jim shifted just right above him and their erections came into contact, rubbed against one another so beautifully even through cloth that Spock’s eyes fell tightly shut and he moaned helplessly through gritted teeth.

Jim’s hand was at Spock’s fastening. Spock was still wearing his boots.

“Alright?” Jim asked.

His voice was so overcome with want it was hardly recognisable, yet to Spock’s ears it could not have belonged to anyone but his Captain, or sounded any more arousing.

Spock nodded, unable to speak, and joined his hand to Jim’s to convey his consent, feeling a lash of Jim’s need as their minds brushed closer.

Jim got rid of Spock’s boots, his pants, and both their underwear with a frantic, almost gleeful excitement, and Spock was only disappointed that Jim prevented Spock from admiring him properly by immediately covering Spock’s body with his and kissing him fiercely.

“Look at you. Spock, you are _so_ beautiful.”

The hand that closed around both their erections was calloused, but gentle. Spock’s body went rigid with tension as Jim stroked them both slowly. Jim moaned softly, burying his face against Spock’s neck, and Spock struggled to breathe, his hips jerking despite his efforts to remain still, his world reduced to Jim’s hand on him and Jim’s breath on his neck and the bright point of pressure of Jim’s mind against his.

“ _Jim_. I cannot-“ He dug his nails into Jim’s shoulders, scrambling for something to hold on to as the pleasure rippled through him, and only the fear of hurting Jim stopped him when Jim hissed in pleasure-pain. “I believe I… will not last,” he barely ground out.

Jim kissed his ear, his pulse point.

“It’s alright,” he whispered. Spock shivered. “It’s alright. Let me see you. Let me make you feel good… hold on.”

Spock was dismayed to hear himself let out a gasping, displeased moan when Jim’s hand left their erections. Instead, Jim took Spock’s hand and wrapped it around Jim’s penis. Spock gasped. To touch Jim like this… he could hardly believe it.

Jim’s skin was beautifully soft and slightly warm with arousal, and he was unbelievably hard in Spock’s grip. It felt wondrous. Spock blinked, lost in the feeling.

Apparently, it was blatantly obvious to Jim that Spock did not know what to do, nor indeed did he possess the presence of mind to figure it out, for Jim chuckled for the briefest moment and leaned down to kiss Spock’s left ear.

“Like this,” Jim whispered.

He wrapped his own hand around Spock’s, showing him how much to tighten his fist and how to stroke Jim’s erection, how to play with his thumb at the tip to make Jim gasp and his hips jerk. The intimacy of it all and Jim’s gentleness were almost too much for Spock to bear.

He devoted himself to mimicking Jim’s grip, feeling his chest swell with pride at Jim’s overcome “ _Oh_ , just like that. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

Kissing softly, chastely down Spock’s neck, his slightly laboured breaths making Spock shiver, Jim took him in hand and started a much faster rhythm, the feel of that large, tight fist around him leaving Spock wide-eyed and breathless, making his grasp on Jim falter as he felt the pleasure mount and spike.

“ _Faster_ ,” he found himself begging through gritted teeth, his body taut with tension.

Jim obeyed instantly and shifted above Spock so that their eyes could meet. Spock was struggling to force his eyes to focus and actually see what he was looking at, but he caught a flash of a sweet smile as Jim brought his free hand to Spock’s face, caressing his cheek, his thumb tracing his cheekbone. Jim kissed him gently, unhurriedly, such a sharp contrast with the fast tight grip of his fist that Spock could take no more. He felt his abdominal muscles seize up and his hips jerk as his pleasure culminated in a fiery, electric burst up his length and his spine, every joint in his body locking up as though trying to preserve this perfect sensation forever. Jim’s voice in his ear felt like a distant dream.

“Look at you. _Oh_ , you’re perfect. _Perfect._ Look at you. _Ah-_ “ Spock found he was still stroking Jim. Instinctively, he did so faster, wanting to push him over the edge. He _had_ to see, he had to _feel_. His free hand found Jim’s face. “ _Yes_. Please, yes.”

Their minds were so eager to meet, the meld came more natural to him than breathing. As soon as Spock pushed forward into Jim’s mind, he was lost in it, surrounded by it even as he felt it enter him and permeate every aspect of his being. He felt Jim’s _katra_ sweep over his, merge with his fully and become one.

Spock saw it all. Jim’s pride and joy at being the cause of Spock’s orgasm. Jim’s utter adoration for him, how beautiful Spock looked lost in pleasure, make-up smudged, hair askew, lips slightly parted and eyes fluttering close. Jim’s feelings of love and longing, the warmth that every one of Spock’s smiles, his humour, his wit sparked in his chest. The fear that Spock would leave him, that he’d be alone again, and the certainty that no, it would never happen, not now, not after this. Not after Spock was in his mind too, promising he would never run away and meaning it. The relief that that brought Jim, the weight it lifted off his chest that almost made him cry.

The pleasure of the meld was unparalleled, all-encompassing yet so delicate, like warm water caressing his skin all over and warm liquor making his insides tingle and burn so sweetly. He heard himself moan even as Jim grunted softly, thrusting into Spock’s fist and spilling his seed all over their chests as he buried his face against Spock’s neck.

Jim was shaking above him. He let his forehead drop against Spock’s, moaning quietly, shakily as Spock’s hand slowed its pace.

“I love you. I love you. You are-“ he shuddered, and Spock felt one last heavy drop of ejaculate join the mess on his fist. Jim whimpered, and gently moved Spock’s hand away. “I love you. Spock, you are everything to me.”

Sparing perhaps half a millisecond to consider the mess between them, Spock shifted to the side to allow Jim to collapse next to him on the narrow bed, and embraced him tightly. Jim wrapped his arms around him, the slickness of his hand surprisingly thrilling.

“Taluhk nash-veh k’dular,” Spock said quietly.

In their minds, still linked from the meld, for a while Jim basked in Spock’s words and the affection that accompanied them.

“I was so afraid you would run from me,” Jim said eventually. “From this. From us.”

Spock swallowed, fearful of Jim’s reaction.

“I cannot lie to you. I thought of it.” Jim’s embrace tightened. “I was afraid. Often, my feelings for you seemed too much to bear. I know now how much pain that would have caused you.” He shifted so they were eye to eye. “I will not leave you, Jim. I could never knowingly cause you harm.”

Jim smiled.

“I know.”

Jim sighed heavily, all tension leaving his body, relief and security flooding their bond. Unprepared, Spock could not stop a slight grimace when a wave of stale alcohol hit him.

Jim’s cheeks and ears turned almost purple with embarrassment, and he covered his mouth with his hand.

“My God, I must stink. I’m so sorry.”

“Indeed.”

Jim had perhaps expected a more diplomatic answer, as betrayal sparked across the bond. Jim sat up as it quickly evaporated, replaced by mirth.

“I see how it is, Mister.” Jim stood up, and Spock struggled to keep his eyes on Jim’s as the man put his hands on his bare hips, perhaps purposefully trying to direct Spock’s gaze. “If you give me a minute to brush my teeth, I’ll join you in the shower and make it up to you.”

Spock frowned, failing to understand Jim’s meaning. Immediately realizing this, Jim bent down and, smiling knowingly, gently patted Spock’s cheek thrice. With astonishing mastery over their link for a human, Jim projected quite clear and detailed images of his hands and mouth exploring every inch of Spock’s body.

Jim grinned as he saw Spock’s eyebrows rise well above the line of his fringe.

Utterly captivated, Spock had never risen so fast in his life.


End file.
